Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing; To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
William ShakespeareIt provokes the desire but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him and it mars him; it sets him on and it takes him off.
William ShakespeareMy love is thine to teach; teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn. Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
William ShakespeareIf the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
William Shakespeare